“I’ve been dying to meet you, Ms. Park. Josh says you’re the world’s greatest mom. Is this true?”
“It is! Oh, Josh, thank you, honey. Also, Radley, you have to call me Steph. Or Mom, if you like, honey. Joshua says your family lives far away? So sad at Christmastime.”
“Well, unlike yourself, they’re homophobic assholes, so not that sad.” His eyes met Josh’s, and Josh gave him a chin jerk, acknowledging that he understood the white lie. It was sad. “But Joshua has officially adopted me as his brother, so I guess you totally are my mom.”
“How about another hug, then!” Stephanie said, and Radley got a second, longer hug. When they broke apart, Radley had tears in his eyes. Josh gave him a manly lean-in hug and introduced him around to those who had not yet met his buddy.
It was quite a crowd—the Kims, who’d have their own kids over tomorrow; Jen, Darius, Sebastian and Octavia; Donna and her now-steady boyfriend Bill; and Sarah with some guy she’d dug up (he could already tell it wouldn’t last); as well as three people from his mother’s lab who didn’t have family in the area.
Bill, whom Joshua had never met, was holding Octavia, and while he seemed like a perfectly nice guy, it gave Josh a pang. The familiarity, the contagious sadness that it was not Lauren’s father who was here, that Donna’s boyfriend would never know her daughter.
“The legendary son-in-law,” Bill said, shifting the baby so he could shake Josh’s hand. “I’ve heard so many great things about you. Merry Christmas.”
“Really nice to meet you,” Josh said, faking good cheer. “And, um . . . same! Great things.”
It was crowded and noisy; Sebastian was strung out with excitement, making Octavia overly excited, too. The strangers from the lab were all very chatty and conversational, Darius and Radley were apparently in competition to become his mother’s favorite son, bending over backward to help and compliment her. Donna and Bill were trying to keep Octavia happy, Jen was busy checking NORAD with Sebastian, the Kims were trying to woo his mother into taking another vacation with them, and now telling Donna she should come, too.
Guess they were all in the acceptance phase.
Suddenly, the red tar rose in his vision. How dare everyone be happy? This was Lauren’s holiday. The first Christmas without her, goddamnit. He wanted to bellow out his rage and pain; he wanted to kick Darius, who was telling some story that had half the room howling with laughter; he wished Sebastian would quiet the fuck down; he hated that his mother had done everything she always did on Christmas Eve. Where was the space for Lauren? Where was the acknowledgment? He didn’t want to soldier on. He wanted to . . . break something.
He pictured himself standing under cold water, cooling the rage. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog. Cold water. Yes. The waterfall in Hawaii they’d hiked to. That cold water, Lauren in a bathing suit, giggling as she wrapped herself around him.
Oh, Lauren.
Ben came over. “Need to step outside, son?” he murmured, a firm hand on his shoulder.
Just like that, the red was gone. Josh was being an ungrateful ass. All these people loved him, and he was about to have a meltdown like an overtired toddler. He glanced at Ben, shook his head. “Sorry. I was just . . . having a moment.”
“It’s understandable, Josh. We’re all thinking of her. All doing our best.”
“I know.”
“Honey, would you put the gubbröra in the red bowl?” his mother asked him with a perceptive look.
“Sure thing, Mom.”
He nodded at Ben and did as he was told.
Over dinner, Jen’s pregnancy was announced, and they all drank champagne, with apple juice for the mama-to-be and kids.
Then Jen raised her glass and said, “To my sister,” and they drank again, and Jen started crying, which made Donna cry, and Octavia joined in, and soon everyone was crying.
Except Josh (and the lab people). The tears didn’t come. He couldn’t talk around the lump in his throat or the ache in his chest. He nodded at the table, then picked up Octavia and brought her in to see the Christmas tree.
He was so tired. So tired of Lauren being dead. So tired of grief. Tired of well-wishers and hugs and a family that didn’t have Lauren in it anymore.
Sarah came in and put her arms around him and Octavia. Didn’t say anything, just leaned her head on his shoulder, and the ache in his chest became a knife, a dull, serrated knife that just about killed him.
Merry fucking Christmas.
“Thank you, Sarah,” he murmured. The lights on the tree winked, and Josh felt a hundred years old.
* * *
HE’D BEEN SMART enough to turn down invitations for Christmas Day, though his mom had hounded him to go to church with her, and Jen had pleaded with him to come watch the kids open their presents (at six a.m.). The forum had told him he could do whatever he wanted this first year of holidays without her, and so without much thought, he found himself heading east on I-195. Pebbles slept in the back seat, occasionally rousing to press her nose against the window.
The sky was gray, and there was no snow on the ground. Once he passed New Bedford, there were hardly any cars. Everyone was already where they were supposed to be. Everyone but him.
The Cape was quiet for the season, and the house they’d rented last summer was unoccupied. The shades were drawn, giving off a melancholy, lonely look. He pulled into the driveway, got out, and the smell of the ocean hit him hard. The thunderous crash of the surf brought him right back to the last time he’d been here. When he was still a husband. When his mission in life was to look after his wife.
Would the code to the door lock still work? Should he peek in the windows? No. It would hurt too much to see this place, empty without her laugh, her smile, her sparkliness.
Pebbles ran delightedly around the outside of the house, peed, then raced down the steep path to the beach. Josh followed. The smell of salt was strong, and the ocean was wild and beautiful, thanks to a full moon tonight and a tropical storm down the coast. Waves broke as far as he could see, a roiling white surf in a pounding, ceaseless roar. Pebbles fruitlessly chased a flying seagull, then found a stick and ran around with it, playing fetch with herself, dashing into the waves, then darting back.
Josh sat on the damp sand and looked at the view.
He could walk into that water and be dead of hypothermia in a relatively short time. Or drown, though he’d prefer hypothermia. The water was probably just above freezing, and he didn’t have a lot of body fat. If he swam out far enough, nature would take him. And wouldn’t it be appropriate, to die here? Would Lauren come for him the way she had imagined her father would come for her? Would they finally be together again?
What did he really have in this life that was worth keeping?
A lot, he knew, thinking of Octavia’s soft warmth in his arms, of Jen’s love, his mother’s constancy. Ben and Sumi. Radley. Darius. Sarah. All of them. Pebbles, who well might follow him into the ocean and drown herself, and he couldn’t let that happen.
But he stared at the crashing waves just the same.
He imagined going back up to the house, and instead of it being empty and cold, everyone was there. Lauren, healthy and pregnant, her whole family, all of his. Instead of last night’s exhaustion, it would be so happy. So filled with joy. Because that’s what Lauren did. She made the world happy. Everyone who knew her was better because of it. The house would smell so good, and they’d laugh, and he’d hug her and put his hand on her stomach, and after everyone had left, they’d go into their bedroom and make love to the sound of the waves.
He bent his head. I miss you, he thought. I miss you so much. I don’t want to live without you anymore, Lauren. I’ve done a good job, haven’t I? Please come back. The letters are running out, and I need you. I can’t live without you anymore. It’s too hard.
He got up, walked to the water’s edge and stood there. A wave sloshed over his shoe, the bite of the Atlantic at first sharp, then numbing. He took a step in, his ankles and shins instantly frigid. Pebbles barked in delight, leaping next to him. Another step, so that the waves crashed above his knees. The undertow was strong, and when it tugged at him, he backed out.
“Come on, Pebbles,” he said, and she obeyed. The wind was fierce, and his ears burned with the cold. He didn’t want Pebbles to get too cold. He certainly didn’t want her to be sucked out by the ocean.
They walked back up the path to the house. Josh let Pebbles into the car, and she decided then it was time to shake. With his shoes still squishing water, his pants plastered to his legs, he started the car and drove home as the darkness deepened.
29
Lauren
Fifty-one months left
November
Dear Dad,
I hope you’ve been watching, because you’re going to be a father-in-law again pretty soon! Sure, sure, Darius is perfect, but I’m 10,000 percent sure you’re going to love Josh just as much.
I’m in love, Daddy! First time ever, not counting Orlando Bloom (who will always have a corner of my heart, of course). But everything I ever hoped for is here with Josh. Everything. He makes me feel safe. Cherished. Beautiful. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as we’re together.
Check us out, Daddy. I know you’ll approve.
Love,
Lauren
Fate. Destiny. Guardian angels. Tarot cards. Voodoo.
Whatever the case, Lauren knew that dating Joshua Park was just a formality. As soon as she saw him at the Hope Center, she knew—she just knew—he would be hugely important in her life. Their first date had only confirmed that. She had a lot to learn about the details of his life, but he was, as they say, the one.
They were extremely different. He worked alone, staring at his computer screen, headphones on, talking with a slew of subcontractors he rarely saw in person. He had one employee, a virtual assistant named Cookie, whom he’d never met but who handled things like his travel arrangements, meetings, billing and other mysterious assistant things. His business card said only Joshua Park, Biomedical Engineer.
In the years since their first and less-than-pleasant meeting, Joshua had gotten a master’s of science with a focus on biomedical design from Brown and a PhD in mechanical engineering from MIT. You know. As one does. That thing he’d designed when he was eighteen, in his second year at RISD, because of course he started college young . . . that thing was a special chair geared for people who had to sit for long periods of time due to mobility issues. The chair monitored the occupant’s heart rate, blood oxygen level and weight; provided moisture detection in case of incontinence, excessive sweating or edema leakage; and had vibration settings to stimulate lower extremity circulation. It could cool or warm the person seated in it, and could also boost them out if they wanted it, and lower them back in. It was also quite comfy and fun, which Lauren knew, because it was one of two chairs in Joshua’s apartment.
The design had sold for just under $10 million.
Thud.
“What did you do with the money?” Lauren had asked when, a month or two into their courtship, he’d volunteered this information.
“I paid my mom back for college. Set some aside for grad school. Banked it. Started a 401(k). Set up a scholarship. You know.”
“No, I don’t, since I’ve never made ten million dollars.” She smiled. “Did you do anything fun?”
He thought about that. “I sent my mom on a vacation,” he offered.
Turned out, he’d sent his mom and her best friends, Sumi and Ben Kim, on a monthlong vacation, first-class airfare and hotels, so they could visit Korea, Thailand and Australia. Private tours in the big cities, a designated credit card so he could pay for all their expenses.
“Did they love it?” Lauren asked, hands clasped in front of her.
“They did.” And that was that. But he smiled, and his smiles could say more than ten thousand words.
Joshua Park owned his apartment—a soulless but expensive two-bedroom in a new building near the river. It was a sharp contrast to her tiny but beautiful loft in a refurbished mill building, complete with original creaky floors and brick walls. While her apartment was cozy and charming, Josh’s was bleak, aside from the view of the capitol’s beautiful dome. He had a kitchen table but no kitchen chairs, two plates, two forks, two glasses. His living room held the medical chair, a couch, a huge TV, and a giant desk with five different computers. His bedroom contained a bed with one pillow. No art, no rugs, no throw pillows. He didn’t have a car but did have a retirement fund.
Aside from food, she couldn’t see that he spent money at all, adopting a painfully dull cargo shorts and T-shirt look that made him look seventeen years old.
“So being a spendthrift,” she said. “Not a problem, I’m guessing?”
“The money’s there if I need it,” he said. “But I can’t think of anything I need right now.”
“Except for the love of a good woman,” she said. “Which money can’t buy, of course.”
“I have that,” he said, and her heart thrilled, because they hadn’t said those words yet. Then he grinned. “My mom. She’s a very good woman.” And because he was so serious and quiet much of the time, his joke meant all the more.
Oh, she had it bad.
His second patent, which he finished while still at RISD, was a needle that could sense blood flow under the skin of newborns and children, minimizing bad sticks and bruising (and misery). He could’ve sold that one; instead, he made the design free, as Jonas Salk had done with the polio vaccine. He co-designed a battery-powered tool that replaced the old-fashioned mallet orthopedic surgeons used in joint replacement, then reworked the design for pediatric patients. Now he was working on a warming bed for premature babies that would sense drops in their heart rate and breathing.
He was incredible. Brilliant, philanthropic, hardworking, focused, driven, kind.
He also lost track of time, went days without showering and had terrible eating habits—takeout way too often, or dinner consisting of Flamin’ Hot Doritos because quite often, he simply didn’t hear the buzzer or see the text from the delivery service. He made several pots of coffee every day but forgot to take more than a sip or two, resulting in numerous mugs lurking on flat surfaces, the bitter smell of old grounds thick in the air.
In essence, he was a hermit. A beautiful hermit with a bad haircut and terrible clothes.
“Why don’t you have your own company?” she asked, sitting one night in his sad living quarters. “You know, a giant eco-friendly building with meditation rooms and massage therapists roaming the halls, looking for tight shoulders. On-site daycare, company retreats in the Himalayas . . .”
He smiled. “You could design the space for me.”
It was her profession, after all. “Done. I’d even give you a discount.”
“I’m not really that kind of guy. I like being alone.” He blushed a little. “But I also like having you here.”
She felt a warm squeeze of pleasure. “And why is that?”
He shrugged, biting down on a smile. “You smell nice.”
“Better than stale coffee and old pizza?”
“Let’s not get crazy.” Then he kissed her, his mouth slow and warm, his hands pretty damn excellent for a guy who didn’t get out much, and yes, she was in love.
Since Josh had virtually no social life and communicated with people only via technology and only when absolutely necessary, she tried to open up his life a bit. He wasn’t agoraphobic . . . he just worked a ton, and was on the shy side. Socially awkward, rather than socially anxious. He hated loud noises, like fireworks or roaring motorcycles, which made him agitated, saying the sound hurt his brain. In groups, he had a time frame before he w
ould shut down like a phone that abruptly lost its charge—a half hour at first, then an hour as she wooed him out more and more. But he also said he had fun, once he relaxed a little. He told her he was on the spectrum and wasn’t great at picking up cues all the time. “So if I’m being a jerk, please tell me,” he said one night, in bed, post-nooky.
“Ditto,” she said, smoothing back his hair. His earnestness . . . it got her right in the heart. “For the record, you were wonderful this past hour.”
She took him hiking, surprised that he could outpace her when, to the best of her knowledge, his only form of exercise was walking from kitchen to desk to bedroom. Then again, her asthma was worse at different times of the year. But if she got out of breath, he’d stop and look at her with those dark, dark eyes lit with that gleam of light, and she’d feel so seen, so protected and loved, that maybe it wasn’t the asthma. Maybe it was just love stealing her breath.
Love at second sight. Even though he’d insulted her way back when she was a twitty freshman, she had to give him points for being right. She had been shallow. She had been measuring her worth in cuteness, good cheer and popularity.
She didn’t anymore. Her father’s death, her mom’s change in personality, the birth of Sebastian, her involvement in things like the community center, her desire to do well at her job . . . she’d grown up.
She wanted to be worthy of a person like Joshua Park.
Three days after they had run into each other at the Hope Center, when she had boldly taken fate by the horns and asked him out, Lauren was in a committed relationship. Just like that. There was no conversation or discussion—they just were. They talked every day. Texted more than that. Saw each other a few times a week, then nearly every day. She woke up smiling because of him, and even though she was generally a happy person, she now understood what had been missing in her life.
Him.
His deep, calm voice caused a physical reaction that made her insides tremble and thrill. When she saw him, she was propelled into his arms by nothing short of pure joy and a truckload of endorphins.
Pack Up the Moon Page 32
